Wicked Harvest

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  “Only if you are intimidated by one who watches.” Chur met Phavage’s glare without malice.

  Tendrils of white hair brushed narrow shoulders when Phavage tilted his head. “You have lost your standing, Harvester. Even your handler seeks to destroy you.”

  Chur digested this information. Would Loban claim the orders had come from Helton himself? Such a claim would bolster Loban’s position that he wasn’t instigating the mass challenge but simply following orders.

  Phavage smirked. “You had three seasons to choose, but your arrogance held sway.”

  Chur lifted his brows. “Arrogance did not give me the strength to defeat any challengers, of which there was none. Do you think your righteous indignation will allow you to triumph?”

  Phavage’s eyes went wide. Perhaps he was just now realizing that arrogant or not, Chur wasn’t going down easily. Phavage lifted his chin. “You are not special, Harvester, and this season there will be challengers, and you will lose. Not by one hand but by many hands. Together, we will weaken you and overcome your arrogance and your strength.”

  Chur’s chuckle wiped the smirk off Phavage’s face. “Many hands to weaken me so Loban can emerge victorious. Have you not considered that he is using you as fodder? Loban encourages you to challenge me for it helps him. If he was secure in his ability, he would not need your assistance to defeat me.”

  Confusion twisted Phavage’s features into a mask. “Loban? He will not challenge you this season.”

  Before Chur could question him further, Phavage turned on his heel and placed the dantaratase against the wall. If this scheme wasn’t enacted by Loban to win the challenge, then who would be the ultimate challenger? When Chur looked up, he gazed into golden eyes flecked with brown. Sterlave flicked back a hank of deep brown hair. A look of regret mingled with determination said it all.

  Sweat poured off Sterlave as he trained with the avenyet against three opponents. His muscles bulged causing his veins to stand out as he twirled and defended himself against all three attackers. Fluid, dance-like movements allowed Sterlave to deflect an attack by one opponent, then launch a counterattack on another. As Chur watched, he suddenly realized Sterlave was not a raw recruit anymore. In the last few cycles, Sterlave had transformed into an extremely strong and dexterous fighter.

  A sinking feeling gripped Chur as he left the training room. Sterlave would be a match for him now. If a handful of other challengers first weakened him, Sterlave would have no problem finishing him off. Even without the others, Sterlave possessed the drive and fortitude to launch a brutal challenge all on his own.

  Had Chur been so wrapped up in his problems that he hadn’t noticed the shifting winds? All along, he’d been preparing himself to face Loban, a man he had no problem killing. Chur did not feel the same about Sterlave, a man he actually liked. Since the challenge was to the death, Chur would have no choice. He considered, then rejected the idea of talking Sterlave out of the challenge, for what waited for him? If Chur convinced Sterlave and the others to wait one season, that Chur was determined to choose from this year’s Harvest, the role of Harvester would likely fall to Loban. Sterlave would have to wait another season and then challenge Loban. There was no benefit to Sterlave in waiting.

  The bigger question was why Loban had unofficially withdrawn from the challenge. Orchestrating this group effort had come from someone, and if not Loban, then who? Sterlave didn’t seem to possess the maliciousness this scheme required, but perhaps the rape had had a profound effect upon him. Sterlave might be more willing to confront Chur rather than his rapist.

  Questions surged through Chur’s mind as he entered his rooms. His thoughts quieted when he spied Enovese at the table with the tome open before her. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she hurriedly blinked them away. She trembled as she stood and moved toward him to help him remove his gear.

  “What’s wrong, Enovese?”

  She shook her head and drew him to the bathing unit. Silently, she washed him and refused to answer his questions or even meet his gaze. All through prepping the meal and eating, she kept her head lowered, a posture not of pain but shame.

  When she rose to remove the dishes he pulled the tome to him and peered at the words. Frustrated by his inability to read, he glared harder at the pages, but it didn’t help.

  Enovese entered and her eyes went round with horror. She tried to pull the book away from him, but he placed one massive hand on the open pages. “Even if you managed to take it away, I would simply take it back.”

  She let go and slumped into the chair next to his.

  “Tell me what you discovered.”

  She shook her head in refusal.

  He repeated his command with a stronger tone.

  On a deep breath she said, “I know where I came from.”

  He thought the knowledge would please her but apparently not. What had she discovered about the paratanist selection ritual that would cause her such shame? He pushed the tome to her and demanded she read the passage to him.

  Her hands trembled as she pulled the book toward her. Tears gathered in her eyes and slid down her cheeks as her lips quivered. She started to read, then stopped on a gasping breath.

  “Stop.” Chur pushed the tome aside. He wanted to know, but Enovese was so upset it was cruel to force her. “Come here.”

  When he opened his arms, she curled up in his lap and buried her face against his chest. He murmured soothing words as he stroked her hair. Again, he wished he could help her, but he simply didn’t know how. Words of comfort felt forced and flat; only his touches seemed to reassure her. He lifted her with ease and took her to their bed. When his large fingers fumbled at the tiny clasps of her robe, she offered him a small smile and undid them. She slipped the rough fabric off and climbed into bed. Chur removed his loincloth and joined her.

  Enovese spooned up to him. He traced idle patterns on her shoulder until she surrendered to sleep. Too many concerns kept him from joining her in slumber. Questions about the upcoming challenge filled his mind. He had no choice but to fight any and all who wished to confront him. Unlike Loban, Chur could not simply withdraw. Either Chur defended his position or he would die. If Loban was not behind the mass challenges, who was? Sterlave just didn’t seem capable of such a plan, but moreover he would have no pull with the other recruits. They would not seek to help him, for they would gain nothing in return. Such was true of Loban as well. Helping him would serve no purpose to the recruits.

  A terrible foreboding filled Chur’s belly when he realized the only one who could enact such a plan would be Helton Ook. As a handler, Helton could influence the recruits and convince them such a move was to their benefit. Could Helton have decided that Chur would never choose a bondmate and getting rid of him was the only option? Why would Helton care about how long a Harvester chose to remain the Harvester? What would removing Chur do for Helton? Helton had to gain something from this scenario, but Chur couldn’t summon a single answer. He gnawed at the question until sleep finally pulled him down to darkness.

  Chur woke with his semihard cock planted between Enovese’s lush lips. He grew harder as she mouthed him, using her hands to further tease his sensitive flesh. He glanced down but found her eyes closed as she focused to her task. Coral-colored lips slipped slowly from the tip to encompass the head. Her hands, soft and smooth, gripped his shaft in tormenting pleasure. Once he was fully rigid, she lifted up and straddled his hips, rocking her slick sex against him. Her movements were graceful and precise, but she kept her eyes firmly closed, lost in pure sensation.

  When he reached for her, she pressed his hands back beside his head, forcing surrender. Even though he had the power to flip her and do as he wished, he indulged her. Chur would never consider himself submissive, but if Enovese wished to command him for this moment, he was willing. He closed his eyes and kept his hands flat to the bed, palms open to the ceiling. With the absence of sight, he allowed his awareness to flood into his other senses.

 
Her body smelled of passion, spicy and rich; as he took a deep breath, he could almost taste her unique essence. Chur felt the wet heat of her sex sliding against his cock. Enovese was so deliciously slick she coated him after three languorous passes. Gods torment him, but he wanted to taste her. He wanted to suck at the source of her lusty scent and know it deep into his mouth, deep into his lungs.

  When she leaned over him, he felt pebbled nipples pressed to his flesh, then her lips to his. Firm, ravenous, like the first kiss they shared, Enovese teased her tongue to his. Her mouth tasted sleepy sweet.

  He lifted his hands to pull her closer, but she pushed his hands back to the bed. His growl caused her to smile against his mouth. Now that he was unable to touch her, he found he desperately wanted to. He wanted to cup the back of her head and hold her while he plundered her mouth. He longed to tangle his fingers in her harvest-colored hair and feel the strands tickle across his chest. He wanted to grasp her hips and rock her against him, then lift her up so he could plunge inside. To stop himself from doing any of those things, he clasped his hands together and put them behind his head.

  He felt her smile as she kissed him; then she lowered her mouth to his ear. Enovese did not speak but only moaned, very low and deep, right to his ear. Her panting breath, moist and warm, aroused him further, and his penis twitched against her belly. Every muscle in his body went taut as he tried to keep his hands behind his head. Her lusty moans increased as she snuggled her tummy to his penis, sliding it this way and that, tormenting him with the promise of her soft skin. Sliding her hips up allowed her to stroke him with her pubic hair. The contrast between her smooth belly and textured hair caused him to groan and clutch his hands to fists.

  He wanted to be inside her.

  Only his skill in resisting, learned from the ritual of control, permitted him to stay passive. Anticipation lifted him higher. Expectation always made that final release shattering. The only way he could resist was by reminding himself that every bit of torment would be repaid a thousand-fold when he climaxed.

  Enovese lifted her upper body away from his and teased her braided hair along his face, his neck, his nipples, then down to his shaft. She used the tufted end like a brush, stroking his length, then around and around the tip. His pulse pounded in his ears and caused his cock to bounce with each thud of his heart. If he could not touch her, he damn well would look at her, but when he opened his eyes, she cast her gaze down and lowered her face.

  “Enovese?” He refused to lay passive when it was clear she was avoiding his gaze and had been doing so since last night. He cupped her chin, but she kept her eyes closed and shook her head, then pressed his hands back.

  “No.” He captured her wrists. “Something’s wrong and I want you to tell me what.”

  She struggled briefly. “I will, but please, let me have this first.”

  He wanted to demand his way, but her plaintive whisper silenced him. If the hurt inside her could be soothed with a morning of sweet indulgence, he would gladly give her this. Chur placed his hands behind his head.

  Enovese slid off him, turned away, and then straddled his hips with her back to him. Placing her hands against his knees, leaning forward, she lowered herself until just the tip of him waited at her passage. She held this arrangement for a long time, allowing Chur to gaze at her heart-shaped bottom and enjoy this new position. He found the lack of eye contact took away his feelings of intimacy. He thought that might be her desire; she did not wish the conduit, that amazing phenomena of connection, to occur, for if it did, what she held secret would be laid bare.

  Longing to complete their union caused him to twitch, and she slid slowly down until she engulfed him completely. Her facing away altered the angle of her passage, gripping him tighter along the underside of his shaft, putting pressure at the most sensitive spot where the head joined the shaft. As she settled herself, snuggling his penis within, the walls of her clenched him in a unique way.

  Enovese did not move, and Chur allowed his gaze to roam over her gently rounded shoulders, to the narrow nip of her waist, then down to her bottom. With her weight on his hips, her fanny became more heart-shaped, and the two dimples on either side deepened. He wanted to trace his finger along them and then the split between her cheeks so he could slip his finger inside her tight nether passage. Keeping his hands to himself became ever more difficult. When she began to rock her hips forward and back, it was almost impossible. She didn’t lift and thrust, but rocked to and fro, as if she danced upon him. Her subtle movements rolled his cock inside her, her passage clutching and sliding, clenching then releasing.

  As much as Chur found this novel sensation enticing, he deeply missed being able to see her face. When caught in the ecstasy of the moment, Enovese’s expression conveyed such rapture it heightened his own. In this position, he could only watch the delicate motions of her muscles below her milky pale flesh, but as she continued her luscious dance, her head went back, causing her braided hair to swing in a mesmerizing loop that mimicked her hips. Round and round in tiny rings she circled his cock. Her moans deepened and he could just barely hear her whispered murmurs of lusty ancient words. Her hands lifted from his knees and stroked up along her outer thighs to capture her breasts. He could not see, but he knew she had cupped them and tweaked the nipples to full attention. She then drew her lithe limbs above her head, arching her back, as if in surrender to a powerful god, with he the altar upon which she offered her sacrifice. Lifting her hands caused her weight to shift, driving her more fully onto him. Never had he been so deeply within her.

  Just when he thought he could stand no more of her delicious torture, Enovese lowered her back to his chest. Once settled, she pushed his legs apart so hers were between his as she lay on top, like a laying-down hug with his chest to her back. He lifted his knees so he could cradle her against him while she moved her hips in tiny circles.

  “Touch me, Chur.”

  She didn’t have to ask twice. Like a starving man offered a lush banquet, he didn’t know where to start. First, he traced his fingertips across her face, stroking her truculent nose, her high and proud cheekbones, and then her mouth. Since he could not see her, he let his hands become his eyes. He traced her lips, feeling how full her upper lip was as compared to the bottom.

  “You have a most intriguing mouth, Enovese. Everything you feel you express with the movement of your lips.” Her slow smile teased his fingertips, causing him a burst of satisfaction. “Ah, see there? It pleases you that I’ve noticed. Did you know your lips are the same coral color as your nipples?”

  A ripple of laughter escaped her. “I had not noticed.”

  Chur trailed his fingertips to her proud chin, then cupped, turning her head so that he could kiss her. She kept her eyes closed, but he plundered his tongue deeply inside. He pulled back and whispered to her ear, “Your mouth tastes of lust with secrets locked behind a tormented smile.”

  Before she could speak, he shushed her, then caressed her neck, her shoulders, then cupped her breasts. Calloused fingers and thumbs encircled her nipples, twisting to bloom them into turgid awareness. Her hips snuggled down, nestling his cock, as he continued to tug lightly at her pert breasts. “I long to take each peak into my mouth so that I can bite and suck and chew.”

  A rock of her hips conveyed her longing, but her gasp at his sharper twist made clear her lust. “Ah, see, you like soft, then hard. You revel in rough touches followed by gentle. You are such a perplexing creature, my succulent servant.”

  “I live only to serve you, my wanton master.” Enovese twined her hands in his hair.

  With a thrust, he chuckled wickedly to her ear. “Now that is a lie, Enovese. You live for pleasure. You take all you know as a paratanist and use your knowledge in a quest for gratification.”

  She tensed at the mention of her title.

  Chur soothed her with strokes along her waist to the small roundness of her belly. Tracing his finger along the gentle slope to tease her belly button eli
cited a giggle. He marveled how far they had come in their lovemaking. This was not a frantic joining but a languorous exploration. His only regret was he could not see her face. The loss of that intimate contact spurred him to find another way to establish their connection.

  Placing his hands flat, he smoothed down to cup her hips. His hands spanned almost her entire hipbones, reminding him how delicate she was but also how large he was. There was tremendous power in his form. His strength was unmatched in combat, but here with her fragile form clasped in his hands, he knew his own tenderness. Taming his muscle for sensual exploration gave him great pleasure. He possessed the power to force her, but quelling his needs to meet hers was intensely erotic. Chur held her hips steady as he thrust at a leisurely pace, dancing below her, letting her feel his penis move within the grasping heat of her sex.

  Enovese sighed and trailed her hands along his arms, her fingertips tracing the movement of his muscles below the hair and skin. Her grip tightened when he thrust deeper, pulling her hips down as he moved his up. Lifting his legs around her, straddling her as she lay above, gave him more leverage, allowing him to move deeper. With her legs clasped together, he could only tease one finger between, but her sex was wet, her clit stiff and straining to feel his touch. Lightly, he stroked his finger to match his thrusts. Enovese placed her hand over his in an effort to compel him to press harder.

  He nipped her ear and whispered, “I love how you can tease me endlessly but turn most greedy when I attempt to torment you.”

  She uttered a strained laugh. “As the Harvester, you are trained in denial where I am not.”

  “Then I will have to instruct you.” He kissed her cheek. “First, take deep breaths through your nose and release them slowly from your pursed lips.” He lifted his hand to her chest to feel her lungs expand. “Very good.” He then touched her face. “Tighten your mouth more so you are pushing the breath out.” After several minutes, she had mastered the kintana breathing technique. “You are a most apt pupil. Now, keep that pace while I torment you.”